


Shadow of the Maiden

by yuletide_archivist



Category: Shadow of the Colossus
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2008-12-18
Updated: 2008-12-18
Packaged: 2018-01-25 02:44:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1627400
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/yuletide_archivist/pseuds/yuletide_archivist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>How Mono met Wander, how they fell in love, and how Wander came to that canyon, searching for a way to bring her back from the dead.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Shadow of the Maiden

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Croik

 

 

DISCLAIMER: I do not own the characters featured in the game Shadow of the Colossus nor do I own their universe. Those are the property of Sony and Team ICO. Original Characters and ideas come from me. 

To my recipient: I hope you enjoy the story, I sincerely enjoyed writing it. Any feedback good or bad would be appreciated. But whatever you think of it know that it was written for you especially. Merry Yuletide!

***

The hawk circled in a slow motion over him. He watched it, his coal black eyes following the bird as it rode the air above him. Agro descended further in to the canyon, it wouldn't be long now, a day, maybe two. He heaved the heavy bundle in his lap further up. His serape shifted, riding up as he moved on the horse. The hawk screeched again, circling further away this time, and he followed it again, watching as its wings crossed the horizon, set ablaze by the setting sun. He sighed, as darkness crept in to the canyon, he spurred his horse further. Finally he came to an inlet in the rock wall.

It was small, barely enough room for two people, much less a horse. Agro stood obediently against the rock face, looking down at him. He set his precious bundle on the ground. He looked at the cliff face, scanning the surface for what he needed. 

There.

He gripped a ledge in the rock, heaving himself upward, once, twice, and once again until he could reach just high enough. He gripped the soft, green lichen that hung above him, tearing a piece free and sticking it in to the pouch on his belt. When he had reached a sizeable pile inside the pouch he slid down the rock face, crossing his legs and sitting in front of Agro. He arranged a small pile of rocks in a circle; out of habit; for the cliff was solid rock, and then he began to arrange the lichen in a pile, with the driest, thinnest twigs left to the side. He reached in to the pouch once more, digging deep until his fingers found it, a sharp flake of flint. He drew his sword, setting the tip in the pile of dry twigs. He worked the stone over the edge, sending a shower of sparks on to the tinder. When smoke began to curl up from the pile, he picked it up, blowing hard, and was rewarded with a plume of orange flame. He carefully set the flame in the bottom of his lichen stack, and soon was warming his hands over the fire. He reached down to his side, brushing his fingers for his sword. When he realized it wasn't there he leapt to action, scrambling over the surface of the cliff and finding it sitting behind him, where he had left it. 

He lifted it in to his hands, the metal jet black in the firelight, reflecting in to his eyes, he stared in to the surface, in to the blackness of the blade.

"Wander..."

"Wander..." "Wander!" Master Sonos snapped, "It's no wonder you got saddled with that label for the rest of your life."

Wander looked away from the sword, laying on the altar, in the hands of the goddess Mono-Alin, beautiful even in stone. He smiled up at his master, bowing his head and listening intently.

"I'm sorry I displease you Master," Wander sighed.

Sonos grumbled, walking toward the altar and wrapping one of his hands in the fine purple silk that draped over it, he grasped the sword with his silk covered hand, and brandished it, hilt first toward the young man. 

Wander was youthful, with bright, shining eyes, and a sunny air about him, he was bare-chested, and on his knees in front of the altar, Sonos approached the boy, staring at him intently.

"What is this sword Wander?" 

"It is the sword that God-King Eamon used to cut the god of the dead from his body."

"Indeed," Sonos grumbled setting the sword once again in the goddess's hands, "And why do we guard it?"

"So that none may use its power to enter the Forbidden Land," Wander concluded, shifting uneasily under his Master's gaze.

"This sword, Wander, is the sword of a true hero, whose descendant, our lord, will be making you a Guardian tonight, under my recommendation, and I will not be embarrassed by you, no matter how much you haven't listened, do you understand, whelp?" Sonos growled.

"Yes, Master" Wander bowed as Sonos smiled, patting him on the back.

"You'll do fine, boy, your father would be proud." Sonos went to the back of the hut, grabbing his serape from the hook on the wall, and throwing it over his bare chest. He was a bear of a man, stout and barrel shaped, dwarfing Wander in size and girth as Wander pulled on his vest.

***

The climb to the Summit was hard, though it had always been, Wander's tribe, the Amonoi had made the climb thousands of years ago, before Mono-Alin had granted them great skill in metalworking and allowed God-King Eamon to create the sword. She had also granted them the skill to weave ladders and carve stairs in to the sheer rock face of the mountain. Those were closed to wander tonight. The rain poured on his body, soaking the rock and his skin with water, making the climb all the more dangerous. 

Finally his hand felt the flat of the Summit, flat black shale, and a rope, not long enough to reach over, but a courtesy affronted those who finished the climb. Wander pulled himself up and faced an excited crowd, a throng of villagers, all wearing masks, each with a different painted face, the animal form of one of the gods. Sitting on a small wooden chair, the throne of the Shaman, was Lord Emon. He wore blue silken robes, and the mask of the owl, the form God-King Eamon took when he flew from the clutches of Dormin, god of death. 

Emon stood, opening his arms wide and calling out to Wander, "Who is this, who comes to my circle?"

He knew the words, "Wander, son of Ivor out of Masea, who would guard the Blade."

Emon nodded, "What tools do you require?"

Wander replied, "A Lord to serve, a Lady to love, and a bow to fight."

Emon nodded again, "That first I am, the third is yours."

Emon received a bow from a torch wielding guardian, and heaved in the air toward Wander, who plucked it deftly from the sky. A guardian came up to him offering him an arrow, burning with flame.

Wander called to Emon, "And the second?"

"Whoever would have you, she is yours."

"Then I shall serve," Wander knocked the arrow, letting it fly in to a mound of sticks in the center of the cluster of people. The fire erupted from the mound and Emon clapped his hands toward Wander.

"Then let us dance!" he said, waving his arms to the throng, who closed on Wander.

The night was long but full of the silken and sultry delights offered to the new initiates, he may well have served his lord for the rest of his life, but on that night, Wander was king. He was crowned with a wreath of olive and danced with every maiden who came to him. As was traditional, he sat at Lord Emon's side during the feast, while the rest of the guardians were served at their posts, holding up the poles that kept the large awning over the crowd. It was a magnificent piece of art, painted by Lord Emon's grandfather in a spirit dream, it was the night sky reproduced in paint, and at the center, the constellation, Edanoi and Lirani, the lovers. After he had eaten his fill, Wander again disappeared to dance around the fire and that's where he found her.

She was wearing a dress of white silk that stood out stark against her raven hair. On her face was a golden mask of a hawk, the animal form of Mono-Alin. Golden bracelets encircled her wrists and a simple golden necklace hung down from her neck. Wander couldn't help but notice that depending on which way she moved through the firelight, it either shone on her dress, or through it. She was dancing in a crowd of young women all of whom noticed his approach. All except her. They welcomed him, bade him to dance with them. She, however, was lost in her own world, lost to the music and to the warmth of the fire, and most of all to her sheer joy and delight at the dance itself. Wander approached her slowly, and suddenly, her eyes locked with his. Wander bowed low, his eyes locked on hers the entire time, and he said in the barest whisper,

"Would you care to dance?"

She stopped, her hands behind her back and a smile curled upon her lips, "You are the Guardian?"

"Yes."

"The night's champion?"

"Yes."

She giggled, turning her back on him, "Then no."

He walked closer, inches behind her, his hands almost brushing hers, the heat from the fire scorched his face, but the heat between them seemed to burn even hotter, so that Wander felt his skin might burn off. 

He smiled and said softly, "Why not?"

She giggled again, her laugh intoxicating him, "Because I am to be betrothed tomorrow."

He leaned over her shoulder, tucking a strand of her black hair behind her ear and whispering, "It is just a dance, my lady."

"No," She smiled, "It will not be just a dance, Wander son of Ivor. If I dance with you, my heart could not bare to let you go."

He walked around in front of her studying her jade green eyes, her beautiful raven hair, and her skin, milky white, almost as pure as her dress, "What is your name, Lady?"

She smiled at him, her eyes shining at him through the mask, "I am Mono."

He laughed, "Truly, I should have expected it."

He turned and began to walk away, she grinned at him, a hand coming to her lips, she put a finger between her teeth, nibbling on it before she called after him, "Why?"

He spun on his heels, "Because only a goddess could bewitch me so, goodnight, my lady."

She put a hand on his shoulder as he turned, "Will you dance with me sir?"

He stared at her his smile coming to his lips slowly he took her hand turning back toward her, "I thought you said it could not be just a dance."

She shook her head, "It cannot, but the man before me may have this maid, if he so wishes it."

Wander, spun her around the fire, dancing closer, more passionately than he had done all night. He did not think it possible, to have stumbled upon a woman so entrancing, so bewitching, so enthralling, that in an instant, he knew. He knew that he did not want another woman, just her, and if she could not be hers, he would devote his life to the memory of her eyes.

Her hair swept around his face as they danced, he pulled her in close to him, her head resting on his shoulder, her eyes closed in bliss. She smiled, taking him by the hand and leading him away from the crowd, out from under the awning and in to the rain. She led him to the stables, pulling open a door and sending him flying on the hay. Her hair was slicked down by the rain, her dress clinging to her body accentuating every curve of it. She sat knelt beside him on the hay, caressing his bare chest, her breath heaving in anticipation; he took her hand, looking up at her. 

"What is your name, goddess?"

She smiled, "You had my answer, Guardian, now be silent and let your goddess have her way."

***

She lay next to him, naked, her body pale as moonlight in the light of the lanterns. Wander pulled a horse blanket from the wall of the stable, wrapping it around them both, she pulled him close to her. She curled in to his body, her lips brushing his neck, lingering on the soft skin there. Wander looked down at her, brushing her hair away from her face, he was almost sure that as she had cast the mask aside during their lovemaking, he had found the strength to take her again and again, even after the climb up the cliff. Not only had she ensnared his heart and his mind, but his eyes could not stop studying her jade green eyes, her pale pink lips, and that dark hair that seemed to ache for his fingers. He smiled, getting up softly, and pulling on his breeches, and lashing his sandals to his feet. He walked slowly to the next stall. 

"Agro," he said, the black horse stirring from his sleep, his eyes bright and shining at the sight of his Master.

Wander pulled Agro close motioning his head over the wall to the next stall, where Mono lay. Wander smiled down at her softly whispering to Agro, "You see her, she will be my wife Agro, and you'll protect her now as well."

Mono stirred her eyes fluttering open and staring up at Wander's smiling face, looking down at her, with the stallion at his side. She wrapped the blanket around herself, her breasts spilling over the top a little, and the bottom barely covering her modesty. She leaned up on the tips of her toes and kissed Wander fiercely, almost trying to pull them together by her mouth.

She smiled softly and whispered, "And who is this?"

Wander grinned, "This is Agro, my friend."

Mono laughed, kissing Agro's nose, "And will he be the Second at the altar at our wedding? Since you are telling him I am to be your wife."

Wander smiled, "Well you are."

Mono blushed, looking at him with a wry half smile, "And how are you so sure, young Guardian?"

"Because if the lady is willing no one can refuse a Guardian his Lady, even if she is Lord Emon's daughter," He smiled, kissing her cheek.

She blushed again, and Wander ached as he watched it spread down her neck, "How did you know?"

"I was training to be a guardian, my Lady, I know your face." He smiled, "But if you wish, I will ask, Will you be mine Mono, my goddess, body and soul?"

She smiled, climbing over the wall, and jumping naked in to his arms, "I already am, but you must tell my father what you wish.

***

She moved in to his hut the next morning. Lord Emon had not been happy, nor had her betrothed, a shaman in training called Syrack. But, while Lord Emon respected that a Guardian of the Blade was entitled to any woman who would have him, Syrack did not.

"How can you let this whelp take away my betrothal right," Syrack fumed pounding the table in front of Lord Emon's throne.

"Syrack," Emon sighed, looking up at him over his steepled fingers, "I would be a poor ruler, and a poorer father if I did not accept my daughter's wish. Wander shall marry my Mono before the month is out, now that is all I will say about it."

Wander and Mono had graciously taken their leave as Syrack had argued his point.

HR Two weeks later, less than one week before they were to wed, Wander laid next to her on the pile of furs and blankets next to the fire that he used as his bed. He was slowly drifting off to sleep when he noticed Mono fidgeting with something as she sat by the fire.

Wander stared up at her, wiping one of his eyes, "What are you doing?"

She smiled at him, hiding her work, "You're not supposed to see."

Wander grinned, "Out with it woman, what is it?"

Mono only looked back down at her work, "It's your first Serape, you're going to be a married man now, you'll need one. And it's my duty as your wife to knit you one."

He twisted his fingers in the fur below him, staring at her fingers working slowly with the knitting needles, her soft linen nightdress leaving her feet bare. He crawled over to her, kissing her feet, and slowly kissing up her body until she stroked his hair, tilting his chin up.

"I love you Wander," She said, running a hand down his cheek, "But you must sleep my wonderful husband-to-be."

Wander kissed her hotly, his mouth crushed against hers, drinking her in as much as he could. He kissed her head softly before he returned to bed, drifting off to sleep.

The next morning, Wander found his hut empty, as he sat bolt upright he saw his serape, laying on the hearth, waiting for him. He dressed, slinging it over his shoulders. He went outside, searching around the hut for Mono, and determined that she must have gone to pick flowers on the mountainside, she loved to dry them in the hut, enjoying the wonderful smells they gave. 

So he took Agro to the mountainside, it was only after an hour of searching that he came upon her. He jumped from Agro's back to her side, kneeling in the grass where she lay, and tears welled in his eyes at the sight.

She was so pale, her skin bleached white, her cheeks streaked with tears, she could barely move her eyes to look at him but she did, and reached out her hand to him.

"Wander," She smiled weakly.

That's when he saw it, the knife wound in her stomach, and the blood, so much blood covering the grass where he knelt.

"Mono," He gripped her hand tightly, "What happened?"

"Syrack," she coughed, "He did it...but first he..." and her eyes welled up with tears.

Wander cried out, bringing his forehead to hers, he lifted her in his arms, covering her with kisses, as he rode her back to the village. It was only when he brought her to their hut, that he realized how cold she seemed.

***

They laid Mono out at the alter of her namesake Mono-Alin, Wander her betrothed, watched by her side for three days and three nights, then the Shamen came in and Syrack was among them.

Wander's fury was like none they had ever seen in an instant Syrack was thrown on the altar, his nose broken and bleeding, Wander's hands at his throat.

"How dare you bring this disgusting, wretched excuse for humanity in to my wife's burial?"

Syrack coughed, "She was not your wife."

Wander squeezed tighter.

Emon held up his hands, "He is one of my pupils, until he is tried he may be here."

"Even when the deceased swore that this putrescent pig had raped and murdered her?" Wander growled.

"Yes, testimony must be considered carefully, Wander"

Syrack chuckled, "Especially the Testimony of a whore."

Wander squeezed tighter, "I'll kill you for that you disgusting wretch!"

Emon put a hand on Wander's shoulder, "There is nothing that can bring her back, my son."

Wander glanced at the statue of Mono-Alin, her hands outstretched and he had his answer. He turned his head to Lord Emon, "There is, one thing."

Wander grabbed the sword from the statues hands and in one swift movement chopped Syrack's head from his body. Then as the Shamen moved to stop him he pushed and shoved through the crowd, picking Mono up in his arms. Stalking through the village toward his hut, he grabbed his bow and by the time Emon and his Shamen had come to the stable doors, Wander was riding out of them, bound for the forbidden land. Bound for the god who made a promise, that he alone commanded death, and whoever entered the land of the dead, could leave it as his pleasure.

***

Dormin. He would meet the god tomorrow. He had a week, maybe less before Emon found him. There were only two ways to the Forbidden Land, one was the sword, the other, a map, that Emon would have to find. Wander stared at the dying embers of his fire, and crossed to the other side of it, throwing aside the blanket; he stared in to Mono's eyes and touched his fingers to her cold lips.

The sun would rise soon.

There would be no sleep for him tonight.

Or again. 

 


End file.
